


The Ties That Bind

by Guns_and_Drums



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: American Civil War, Canon Compliant, F/M, Texas, War violence, period fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guns_and_Drums/pseuds/Guns_and_Drums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I grew up a Pacifist, believe it or not. This rank, the literal and metaphorical blood on my hands? I never thought I'd end up here. I'd never thought I'd lose it all so fast. War… it never decides who's right, just who's left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secession

**Author's Note:**

> January 1861. South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida and Alabama have already seceded from the Union.

"Willy, that's all fine and well," I spoke as I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the back of my neck. The Texas sun was almost unbearable today, to the point of making it hard to breathe. I s'pose that could also probably be on account of what my little brother was tellingme, but more on him in a minute.

"You know Pa's stubborn as anything and if you go in that there house," I pointed toward our porch, "and start talking this damn Yankee politics, he's gonna blow his top."

"I know, Jas!" he was so darn excited, I felt bad trying to quell him. He was popping up and down with every step like his knees were coiled spring. "That's why I'm talking about it with you now! I gotta tell someone, now I'm back and we won't be able to talk again to until midnight when Mama and Pa go to sleep."

"All right then," I replied, not seeing a whole lot of good coming out of this situation. I replaced my hat on my head, made my way up the stairs and held the door open for my brother.

Willy was so different now. From his close-clipped hair to the way his shoes sounded against the wood of the porch. Shoes. Willy didn't wear boots anymore. I still say shoes don't make any sense down here in all this dust, but a man's entitled to his own footwear, I s'pose.

This was Willy's second time back from Up North. He had just finished his second year. Now he was back home to be a doctor. Pa couldn't afford to bring him home nearly as often as Mama would like. But Willy had spent his last nickel to get back home before spring. Mama nor Pa knew just quite yet. Willy had wrote me a few weeks back, letting me in on his plan so as I could pick him up when he got the train.

Of course, Lucy sticks to me like glue most days and I couldn't very well keep it from her for long. I don't know why she wanted around me so much. There was close to six years between us. Mama calls her a 'free bird', only when Pa's not around of course, maybe that's why.

Anyways, Willy finally got here. My tongue would color black all over if I said I wasn't happy to see him come off that rail car. You see, Willy and I are only two years apart. And we never did grow up in one of the cities - or even the towns - around here. It was mostly just us and the ranch. Sure we had ranch hands but when Willy and I were young they certainly weren't no fun for games or other entertainment. And I'd missed him while he was gone. Two years is a heck of a lot longer then you might suspect. So much around us had changed. And listen to Willy for near a moment and you'd know things around him at school had been changing.

Like I said, I felt that grin stuck to my face. Wouldn't budge for anything. Until Willy started talking politics.

Now, I like to think myself open minded enough to listen other people's ideas without getting in a royal huff about it. There are lots of things I don't agree with Willy about, but he's my brother. And I like to peek inside his mind, see how he thinks about stuff, how his teachers and his education have influenced him.

But as I said, our Pa was stubborn as anything. Mama insisted his skull was made of oak. And while I never did see him as an intolerant man I know he didn't like change. Pa also didn't like Yankee smart alecks.

We read the broad sheets whenever we could get them in from town and there was more than a fair bit of trouble brewing. Sometimes I don't think Willy saw that, living in that university and all. The way I see it is that you can't have man from one place telling everybody else that they have to do things his way. Because we aren't all close to being the same and down here we don't take too kindly to being ordered about; we made our own way about this place for long enough. And now business is all set up, we got people and the government telling us how to run things. From my experience it's best just let people be. But you just wait and see, the government ain't ever taken one lick of good advice - leastways when it comes to ordering people about.

Dang… I wasn't even born in this country. My folks moved out here way before we were a 'state'. Back 'fore almost '46 we was our own separate country. I'll be branded crazy before I deny a lot people in this state'd rather go back to those days. You see, this new country we joined ain't looking so much better for the wear. The whole damn place is falling apart.

Governor Pickens must be made of tougher stuff. Secession. It's on everyone's mind now. No one's saying much about it outside their own homes. Can you blame us? We ain't crazy, times are hard, but secession… that there is an act of war, it is. It mighta seemed like a good idea or something to toss on the table, but now who knows? Most people seem to suspicious to talk about.

But things can't keep going as they been. It's a hotbed of contention down here, I suspect it won't be long before this whole mess explodes.

Anyways, Pa would be fit to be tied if Willy came in, going on about Lincoln and right of the Executive and industry and Federal mandate. I was just giving him a proper warning. He was pretty excitable, after all.


	2. Ranch Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late January/early February 1861: Texas Legislature debates secession.

I thought Mama woulda keeled right over on the spot when she saw Willy walk through that door. I just kept my place at the table while she fluttered about him like he came back someone famous. She kept patting at her hair and trying to keep her eyes from watering. It was such a nice sight to see. My Mama was a happy woman, never did I see her out of sorts. I suppose it was only natural. My Pa was a regular spitfire – one extreme or the other – he needed Mama to sort of even him out. Keep him level headed and all that.

Mama was finally able to pull herself more than an arms length from Willy to lean out the window and call for Pa. "Eli? Eli, do you hear me? Elias Whitlock, get in here!"

Pa had been out in the yard teaching Lucy how to keep the books for the new cattle season. Y'see Lucy had this sort of natural intellect. Now, Willy was darn smart – ain't no denying that – and I had my own way about me, but for Lucy, it just came natural. Since the day she was born it was like she was just pickin' up on things. She had this knack of just watching a person at a task or chore and knowing how to do it herself. Half the time she coulda told you a better way to do it.

Like I said, Mama called her a free bird and Pa loved her to pieces, but neither really was too keen on her mannish ways. That girl will forever be running around this ranch in trousers; I don't know how many times Mama's tried to wrestle her into a skirt. She never had much cause for skirts and petticoats always getting in the way and such – especially out in the barn. But Mama insisted she was growing up a third son and didn't want her to lose that genteel female nature.

I don't think I always understood the concern… She was wild at home, but it wasn't like we couldn't take her nowhere. She cleaned up something nice on Sundays for Church and whenever we went into town she was the picture of propriety. She was always very caring too, just like Mama. She'd sit with you whenever you were feeling sick or just a little lonesome. She had a knack for bring happiness with her everywhere like a lantern. And she was good at listening too. Sometimes I'd talk to her for hours about nothing and everything. She always knew the right time to offer her own two cents or when to just keep quiet and listen.

Like I said, Lucy picked up on an awful lot. She played all the cards in her hand.

I heard her usual sprint coming from back around the house where she had been learning the numbers. She hopped up the steps and launched herself straight at me. "He's here?" She whispered in anticipation as I hugged her, warm from the sun and her cornsilk hair fighting its way out of the braid Mama had woven this morning.

"But of course, you think I was lying to you?"

"Jasper," she let herself down and gave me an attempt at a stern look, "If the day ever comes that you think you can lie to me, you've surely gone crazy." She gave me a final smile before running inside to give Willy the same sort of tackling hug. I could hear her soprano shout "Willy!" followed by an "Oof!" of surprise as she jumped on him and my mother's laughter as my Pa came up the stairs.

"Well," Pa said quietly as he stepped methodically up the stairs, putting his ledger and pencil stub back in his breast pocket. "I wonder who that could possibly be?"

"Did you guess?" I wondered. I'd honestly tried to keep it secret – and apart from Lucy – I thought I had.

"Not until Lucy started yellin' his name on her way back from the barn."

"Dang it," I muttered. "Well, Mama was certainly surprised…"

"I am too," he agreed as he clapped me on the shoulder. "I'm surprised you kept it from us for so long…" he was quiet for a moment, watching all the jubilation through the open door.

"That was a nice thing you boys did for your Mama," he nodded. "With Willy having to look for a job soon and the way things been in the East lately…" he paused and shook his head. "I thought it was going to be a lot longer before we saw him."

"I'm glad," I smiled lightly. And I was. Not to say that my family hadn't been happy at all these past months, but there's something about having everyone together – even for a little while – that just feels right. "Do me a favor, Pa?"

My father smiled that wry knowing smile – the one everyone says they see in me all the time – and adjusted his hat. "I know, Jasper, I know. We'll let it rest for now. I know he can't help it. Willy always was the type to light off for new discovery. No politics. I wouldn't do that to your Mama. I trust you've had the same discussion with him?"

"Of course," I nodded. "That was probably the first thing I told him after greeting the boy."

Willy enjoyed his time back at home, swept right back into the swing of ranching. He chased the new calves around the open fields on horseback, helping Pa corral them to be branded. He took to helpin' Mama with the chickens too. She never did like going out to kill one for dinner in the evenings. Said it made her heart heavy. Usually, since Pa and I were out, she was left to do it. Willy liked helping her around the house. Lucy joked to me that Mama might've finally found herself the daughter she always wanted. I think Willy just liked being home and with Mama for once in such a long time.

Mama had that way about her. She just kinda moved smooth and peaceful like. Sometimes, watching her was like watching a dream. Everything kinda had its own speed. Mama was what our negro ranch hands called 'bone sweet'. Bone sweet, they says, was this way that certain livestock like sheep and cattle were. They sort of radiated this inner tranquility and you couldn't help but sort of get sucked in by it; it just made you peaceful inside too. Mama had that. Mama was bone sweet. It just made you want to be 'round her all the time. Willy hadn't had that for a long time, now.

That first whole week, Willy told me every night how he'd wanted to sneak out after Mama and Pa had gone to sleep, just to run down to the ranch hands' huts and see them for old times sake. Pa contracted about a dozen free negroes to help him on the ranch. They lived about a quarter mile across the property and on the other side of a patch of trees and our big ol' barn.

When Willy and I was young, we used to hear their music until late at night, how they'd be laughing and singing. Willy swore they was dancing too, he insisted that any kind music that done sound like that had to have some toe-tappin' along with it. When Willy and I was about eleven, we snuck out the house one night and made the dash around the barn and on the far side of the outcropping of the Bald Cypresses.

Turns out Willy was right. They had been a dancing up a storm. They were certainly surprised to discover young Jasper and Willy Whitlock peeping over their windowsill at close to ten o'clock at night, but they welcomed us inside nonetheless. We were young and still rather unassuming. Living out on the ranch with nothing but family, the hands and an occasional trip into town to introduce us to society, we weren't really sure what was so wrong with us associating with the help.

The men worked with Pa in the fields with cattle and on the ranch. I learned over time that most of the women worked in town and walked the five miles in and out every day, while the older children tended the smaller. Willy and I grew accustomed to life with the ranch hands and a few times a week we would sneak down out our attic window, down the hill, around the barn and towards the small beacons of light, sat all squat and low in the field at the edge of the road.

Pa found out eventually, and frowned upon it rather deeply. Mama insisted that there wasn't nothing wrong with it and eventually we were allowed to continue our visits but only in the daytime, none of this sneakin' off at night business.

Over the years, Willy and I got to know the people that worked under our Father. They was nice people. They always had good stories to tell and songs to sing; from what I could tell they cooked mighty fine food as well. Willy and I always politely declined their offers though. They never did have much…

Anyways, back to what I was saying! That first week back Willy kept telling me how he wanted to sneak out – just for old times sake – to visit our friends down the hill. I told him they wasn't no different than when he left and that it would be awfully embarrassing to be in our twenties and whipped by our Pa for sneaking out the house to see the ranch hands.

But not much ever came of Willy's plans because he passed out asleep, dead like a log not more than a few minutes after laying down each night.

I told Alex about this when we were working to move a few hundred head of cattle over a field for new grazing. "Willy keeps going on about visitin' you all but doesn't really make it too far into his plan before he's asleep like a log," I laughed.

Alex is a year younger than me. And as much fun as it was to hear the stories and songs of the older ranch hands at night, they were adults and weren't much fun in the day time. So, Alex and his sisters Maggie and Loretta – along with Noah and George – became our friends. We were all round about the same age and when we got cut loose from ranchin' and workin' every now and then, we liked to have fun together. We jumped off tree limbs into the pond at the edge of Pa's property. We pretended to be pirates – like in the stories George and Noah's grandma was forever tellin'. Sometimes we were Mexican outlaws, living on the lam. Other times, I'm pretty sure we just ran willy-nilly through the tall grass of the up grown cattle fields.

I had gotten to know Alex best. I'm not sure why. His full name was Alexander Macedon Hampton. His mama had named him after Alexander the Great. When he was still a baby, she just always had this feeling about him – that he'd be destined for great things. He always told me it was better than being named after Napoleon, as there weren't very many good nicknames for something like that.

"Does he? Shoot, you know, we're full grown men now? Y'all can just walk down during the day. Knock on the door like everybody else does."

"I know that. That's what I been saying. And I figure Pa would either tan us something awful or think we's right crazy if we snuck out of the house at our age. I don't want to find out. I think he's just excited to be back…" I smiled as I circled around the last stray steer, urging it forward.

"Must be quite a change for him," Alex noted sagely as he turned and squinted towards the pinkly orange sunset.

"Must be. I can only guess as good as you. I ain't ever been out of this county, let alone all the way near New York City and Boston."

"I reckon I'd like to see it someday…" Alex mused as we headed at a slow pace back towards the barn.

"That's all good and well, for you, but I heard just as many of Willy's stories as you have and I think that's just a few too many people in too small a space. Can't be good for a person."

"No world travelin' for you, Jas?" Alex laughed. "'Spect to live your whole life in this spit of Texas?"

"I s'pose so," I replied as I slid out of my saddle.

"'No justification for rash action', my eye!" Pa smacked the broadsheet from in town down on the table. The candle flickered with the force of it. I swallowed tightly and glanced sideways towards him from my spot across the table.

Willy and Lucy were busy talking over some such topic and peeling potatoes over a basin while Mama tended the fire in the hearth.

Pa didn't miss my glance. We had been hearing all sorts of things trickle in from different parts of the state and the country in general. I'll be frank when I say I didn't figure it was long before the entire country split in two or President Lincoln marched the Army in here and put the hoopla down like Washington and Whiskey Rebellion not a generation ago. Personally, I'd a wished that Texas just never joined in this royal mess.

At any rate, we were just learning the finer details of what was happening in the state Legislature. Sam Houston had noted – as Pa reiterated – that the election of a certain President Lincoln was unfortunate but no cause for rash action.

"Look at this, boy," he slid the paper across to me. "I swore to you and your mother I wouldn't discuss it, but I can't ignore it neither."

...The Informal State Convention of Texas on the 1st inst. passed an Ordinance of Secession, by a vote of 166 to 7. The action of the Convention is to be submitted to the people on the 23d, and if indorse by them, the Ordinance is to go into effect on the 2d of March. Governor Houston, it is understood, has recognized the Convention's action. Meantime rumor reaches us from Fort Smith, Arkansas, that the Texans intend to still further to prove that secession must necessarily be accompanied with outrage. Forts Washita, Cobb, and Arbuckle, in the Indian Territory, are threatened by them...

"What?" I couldn't help but gasp. I laid my whittling knife - which had been the prior occupant of my thoughts - on the table. "That can't be… We had enough trouble on Indian land, if we push any further in or start any more trouble it'll be like we were moving in for the first time again. Washita? Arbuckle? Cobb? Those are federal forts. They ain't occupied by not Texas cavalry. That there is US Army territory," I whispered as I jabbed my index finger at the offending words.

"I know, son. I know. The Indians and the Unionists. Colonel Emory, the commanding officer, has been out there for a while."

"Long enough to give the Indians enough incentive to side with the US Army?"

"I don't know. But we haven't encroached any further on their land for a very long time, son. But the US Army has had outposts all through their land since Texas joined the states…"

"It's anyone guess, then?"

"Well, I don't know about that. All I'm saying is I don't know, Jasper. I just don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for 'bone sweet' information goes to Chapter 7 of malicecat's Kim/Jared fic Tempo.
> 
> A word on vocabulary: I use the cultural and period relevant term 'negro' as sparingly as I can and only as a way to denote the differences between the white and black workers on the ranch. While I'm not one to promote censorship, I feel the more vulgar and common term of the time is uncalled for and wantonly offensive. Despite its being more realistic, I'm not going to use it.


	3. The Confederacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-March 1861: Texas secedes and joins the Confederacy, against the advice of Governor Samuel Houston.

The next week, Willy and I spent most of the day in town. There were a fair few errands we had to run. Mama needed all sorts of stuff - flour, a bolt of linen, lye - because we hadn't been in town for such a while. Also, Pa and myself were fixin for some new boots. I reckon I could feel the earth beneath my toes most days the soles was so worn.

Willy liked being near any plot land that housed more than ten or twenty people. Going from a bustling city life back to the ranch - where we didn't ever see strangers for weeks at a time - must a been a shock to the system.

I won't lie, I was a bit worried with him alone in town. Texas was now officially part of the Confederate States of America. The Stars and Bars. Now, Willy - I don't believe - ever really recognized how big a shake up that was.

Willy was my little brother – regardless of that education he had over me – and he was still terribly ignorant of the way things in the world might have affected him. Of course, here I am referring to his being a Yank in the deepest of Southern territory. It didn't have to be dangerous. But it could've been. And even though everyone in town had known Willy since long 'fore he was born, I didn't worry that much.

But the talk of war and Texas joining a whole new country (a fourth in less than a hundred years, I might add) really put the light on a person's head and with Willy unable to really contain himself most of the time, I suspected someone's polite dealings with his Northern ways might finally wear down.

I was in the McCormick's talking with Al behind the counter about the prospect of getting a few riggin's for the cart this summer, as the leather on the old set was wearing to the thread, when Willy stumbled into the store. I'd left him – safe I believed – in the only public bookstore in the county. It was actually the registry of deeds. Old Mr. Green ran the place with his wife. She was an educated lady, born and raised in Alabama, the daughter of a well-known minister she had been afforded a literate nursemaid and had always loved books. She was able to badger her husband into buying them off folks when they was disposed of and selling them at a profit.

At any rate, he came stumbling in the store. And with Willy, stumbling is usually more a sign of his amazement and less of his fondness for the bottle – so I got to wondering what could possible be amazing him in his own town.

"Jasper! Jasper!" He called my name as he continued to stare outside and back towards me at the counter. Al had stopped talking and was watching Willy with a peculiar expression – fascination and annoyance – if I were to guess. I was gettin' used to that expression.

"What is it Willy?" I asked mechanically, leaning an elbow against the counter as the door finally clicked closed and tinked against the bell above the door.

"Have you seen what's going on out there? Have you seen it?" He sounded like he'd just seen a figure of God outside and I got curious. I stood fully upright, pushing myself off the counter, and made for the shop's front window. I peeked down, beneath the awning that stretched outside and saw what must've shocked Willy into here, stumbling and talking like he was nine years old again.

Across the street, where the post and freight came off the trains, there was a line of negroes all stood up together. They were all sort of motionless, staring without seeing. When the next was pushed off the rail car by the large conductor he or she would jostle the line and they'd move like cattails in the wind. They were awful peaked and thin – unhealthy looking. They were dressed in clothes that mighta once been very bright colors, but now they were wan and flimsy. There was all sorts: men and women, boys and girls, young 'uns and old 'uns.

I hadn't actually seen a new shipment since I came into to town to pick Willy up in the first place. I'm surprised he hadn't noticed then. He musta been too excited to get home.

The last of them was shoved off the rail car and the conductor hopped down and heaved the door closed. I noticed Sheriff Kurtz was there with some others to shuttle them to their destination like usual.

It was a band of relocated negro slaves.

I heaved a deep sigh, placing my forearm against the low beam of the window. I suddenly felt terribly tired. I took a moment to rub my hand across my forehead, a nervous habit I developed over the years. Willy didn't miss it. "Jas?" He turned to me, suddenly serious. I heard Al McCormick shuffle up on the other side of me and click his tongue a few times.

Since the trouble had been started between the North and the South Carolina, we'd started seeing a slow but steady influx of slave property from the Eastern states. People – particularly on the border with the North – had been getting nervous about the impending tensions. War was inevitable, they said. So they contacted their family's living in the newly settled lands – Texas included – figuring things would be quieter and safer out here. Then they shipped their negroes on out to keep 'em from running off or running any other sort of risk.

They had been coming in more frequently lately. I think we'd seen two or three shipments each week… As often as the rail came in these parts. We were running beyond capacity. The county was new and certainly not used to so many newcomers. It was starting to itch in the heads of some of our more cantankerous neighbors – and round these parts we had a fair few of those. Pa came home grumbling about the influx a few times. He never said much about it, probably for the best. Ever since Pa decided to hire free negroes, we sorta been the peculiar family round these parts…

Long story short: it was makin' for some even higher tensions in our small part of the world. And it worried me a fair bit.

"Jasper?" Willy said my name again, breaking me from my inner ramblin's. "What are they doing?" he signaled towards the window, as the line of people was jostled down the main road and out of town, towards someone's ranch on the outskirts I'm sure. I watched them for a moment, but Willy never took his eyes off me. "They're not free, are they, Jas?"

"No, Willy," I ducked my head and observed the plank board of the deck outside. "They're not."

Willy was pretty somber after that. I didn't like watching the shipments much more than anybody else, but it was a sore fact of the wartime state. Willy grew up here his whole life, and sure we had never had negro slaves, but they was all around us. It wasn't anything new.

We had resaddled and were making back towards the edge of town and were beginning to catch up with the latest shipment when a band of about a dozen men went rumbling past us. I say rumbling, because they wasn't really running, and it wasn't as bad as stumbling. They was like a small mob inside themselves, all angry and yelling and irate.

I glanced back down the road where we were headed (and where they'd just come from) and I could hear Sheriff Kurtz shouting. "Get back home the lot of you! I don't want to hear another lick of trouble from yeh; I got enough to worry about in this damn town without making sure you don't go killin' off other people's property!"

There had been a fair lot of murmurs of displeasure around – as I said – about our latest inhabitants, but nothing had ever so organized as to gather into a dozen men like I saw storming up into town.

Willy looked close to faltering as we continued on past the gang of slaves, trekking up the hill. "Keep going Willy," I said curtly. "It's getting dark."

Things was getting worse by the minute in these parts.

Something was brewing in town over the next few days. Part of me just didn't want to know. Part of me just wanted to go back to when things was peaceful and normal, when nothing unexpected ever happened.

Everyday, our road was getting more and more traffic. We was only about a quarter mile from town and our little house set not more than twenty feet from the road. We owned the fields on each side of the road and could hear and see whenever anyone was heading in. Normally, we didn't get much on that road at all, but now it was just as bad as the main street downtown. Bands of men, in twos, threes and sometimes fours, were walking and riding in and out of town. They was always talking, too. It never seemed like nice talking, either.

It was three days after Willy and I had been in town when we had one of those unexpecteds. We was sitting down to dinner when there was a quick rappin' on the door. I was on my way back from the wash basin, so I stopped and undid the latch. Charlie Cooper – the boy that ran post back and forth from our town to the next – was heaving and sighing like he might drop a lung against my door post. He was the quickest man on two feet around here, even at the age of sixteen. I'd never seen him out of breath.

"Jasper," he gasped. "Your Pa… where's your Pa?"

I ducked under his arm propping him up and helped him inside as I spoke. "Breathe, Coop. Breathe. You ain't going to do us no good if you keel over." As he staggered into the kitchen I heard Mama gasp as she stood up and rushed towards him.

"Charles Cooper, what on earth is going on?" she cried as Lucy got him a glass of water.

"In town. Sherriff Kurtz is asking for Mr. Whitlock in town. He needs his help. All those boys and men that been hemmin' and hawin' about the negro shipments? They been startin' trouble since sundown. Sheriff Kurtz is lookin' for reinforcements – he asked me to fetch your Pa and set down the road to the Grover Ranch, as well."

"Willy," Pa spoke, even and calm as always. "Go get me my belt. Jasper, go saddle up Delilah."

"Yessir," we both spoke at once and dispersed.

I was outside and towing Pa's mare, Delilah, on out of the barn (it was a fine battle indeed, she didn't much like comin' out so late at night) when I heard the door round front snap back close and heard Pa's measured step workin' towards me.

I saw his shadowed form heading towards Delilah and I. He had his gun belt slung on – I hadn't seen him use it years – with the pistol on one side and his revolver on the other. "Anything else from Coop?" I asked.

"Nah… He didn't know much. Dozin' in the county courthouse on his shift when Sherriff Kurtz came a blazin' in fit to skin the devil himself. It was all he could do to listen to orders and high tail it out of there."

I handed the reins to Pa and we continued towards the road. "I s'pose it was only a matter of time before they made a real big stink about it. I just hope no one's has to get hurt. We got enough trouble on our hands – we got a war coming – there ain't no need to be fightin' amongst ourselves…"

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Now, you listen to me Jasper. You're eighteen years-old now – a full grown man. I need you to do me a favor and watch out for your mother and your sister – and especially your brother – while I'm gone." He hooked his foot and swung up in the saddle. "Don't let no one on give you any lip, y'hear? I don't want you takin' to that kindness streak of yours – not tonight."

"Yes, sir. I– I will," I'm not too sure why I stuttered.

"I s'pect I'll be back 'fore sun up." I nodded and he tipped his hat towards me. He swung his rifle over his shoulder before giving Delilah the go ahead.

I watched the dust pick up in the moonlight as he headed off towards town. I took a deep breath of the night air before closing the barn doors back up and making for the house. When I came back up the porch, Coop was working his way out.

"You off to the Grover place, now?" I asked.

"I am, indeed. Your Ma's seen fit to let me loose."

"All right," I said placing my hands on my hips. "After you do right by Sheriff Kurtz's orders you go home, y'hear? I don't want to hear about you in that fray in town – you're too dang young. By heck, you can come back here for all I care."

Coop looked at me with a small grin playing at his mouth. True, he was only two years younger than me – but he'd always been a bit of loose cannon – and two years made a lot of difference.

"Yessir," he feigned a bow as he hopped down the stairs.

"Don't you sass me, Coop," I replied rubbing my brow, trying to straighten out the furrow. "Just listen to me."

"I will, Jas. No need to worry."


	4. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 1861: Texas joins the War Between the States

I wasn't long inside the house before I started hearin' suspicious noises outside.

I had gone back in after Pa and Coop had left. I had to all but bar the doors, lest Lucy get out. She was runnin' around and clawing at doors like an anxious dog, itching for the hunt. I don't know what got into her. She'd always been very clear cut on issues of fairness, so I suspect it was the ramblings of what was going on in town that had her blood boiling so. I wasn't ever so glad as now that she'd taken to wearing trousers. It certainly made gettin' a hold of her a lot easier.

Mama was pretty upset. She never liked to show it outright, instead she got real fidgety. She couldn't never sit down when she was upset. She would walk around a lot and clean things that didn't really need much cleaning. And she would move her mouth a lot, like she was talking to herself. I mostly let her be. I was the only one that was ever able to really calm her down when she was like that.

Mama always said I had a gift for persuasion. She said I coulda talked a noose out of hangin' me, if need be. So I made her a cup of tea and talked to her like I always do and settled her down in her knitting chair near the fireplace. She was looking quite a bit better so I let her be.

Willy was just sitting all sort of quiet like at the table. I hadn't bothered him much as I was dealing with Lucy and Mama. But he looked real shook up. I took a seat at the bench across from him and it was like he didn't even notice. "Willy," I tried to get his attention. He didn't even flinch, just kept staring at the scrubbed tabletop. "Willy," I tried again, this time I even waved my hand in his line of sight.

I hoped he wasn't going to have some kind of fit. The Parker boy had fits when he was young and they always looked awful scary. No one was really sure what cause 'em. He mostly grew out of them by the time he got older.

Just as I was thinking of how my brother reminded me of Ab Parker is when I started hearing a ruckus outside. I hadn't heard anyone come from down the road… I stood up and stepped over to the kitchen basin and peered out the window. I didn't have to look long before I noticed a whole gaggle of men standing about fifty yards away near the barn. They was stumbling about with their bottles and torches and weapons. I recognized these men, and given what was happening in town I knew they meant us no good at a time like this.

"Lucy," I called. "Get me the pistol."

"What?" she screeched, immediately knowing something was about.

"Lucy," I said sternly, without removing my gaze. "The pistol." She retreated quickly to fetch the rifle and I heard my mother stand and come across the kitchen towards me.

Lucy returned to my side moments later, now entirely quiet. She wasn't used to my being stern with her. She handed me the Colt M1861 revolver and went to sit by Willy.

"What is it Jasper?" my mother asked, trying to peer around me as I checked the cylinder for ammunition.

"Not sure," I replied, cocking the piece back into place before stepping towards the door. "Stay here. Stay inside. I won't be a moment."

Willy wasn't motionless anymore, but he still had that empty stare in his eyes. I unlatched the door and stepped outside, tucking the revolver into my belt. As I stepped off the porch and towards the barn there was a mighty fog began to overcome my sight. I made carefully for the barn and the group of about half a dozen men didn't really seem to notice me as they all shouted and howled among themselves. Then I noticed the man in the midst of their huddled raucous circle. The ringleader. "Amos Pike!" I shouted, feeling the muscles in my jaw and neck grow tense. The sight of that man just made my blood boil. He lived clear across the other side of town and was never up to no good.

His family had helped establish our settlement and put a lot of investment into the place. He was nobility by birth, but scum by character. He was unpleasant man, always drunk and rowdy. He never even tried to join the rest of our small town society. He never went to Church and openly called at people in the streets of town. To top it off, he was a mean bastard. Sheriff Kurtz had to leave him in a cell overnight more than once for the scraps he was involved with in town. He was a nasty combination of volatility and entitlement.

I was only a dozen feet away – I had my pulled the pistol from my belt and held it down by my side – and Pike stumbled out the circle as they all turned to look at the source of the shout. Even at only twelve feet away they were more and more difficult to see as that thickly haze began to grow.

"Why Jasper Whitlock," he called. "What can I do for you this lovely eve?"

"Amos, I'd like it very much if you and your boys could keep on your way. Best not be loitering."

Pike stepped a bit closer and looked me over. "Well, now. I certainly wouldn't want to be disturbing the peace here. Say… your Pa still got those damn seditious negroes workin' for him?"

I raised the pistol. "You watch yourself, Amos. The Hampton's been in this part of the country longer than you have."

"But around here Jasper we got ourselves a hierarchy. I know your Pa never instilled that in you kids, but I think it's about time your family learn."

I opened my mouth to reply when my breath was pushed from out me. A burning in my chest and nose forced it from going into my lungs. It was then that I realized that haze was smoke. I took a step the to right and looked around the other men and noticed the haze thicker around the barn door.

I ignored Amos Pike and strode towards the barn. As I put a hand to the door to push it open I was immediately repulsed. That door was hotter than a cast iron stove. The barn was burning from the inside out, because of these drunk fools.

I spun on my heel and aimed the pistol directly towards Amos Pike. I pulled back the lever, barely able to contain the shaking from my pure rage. I could feel my face heating and a nerve ending in near my eye began twitching something fierce.

"Amos Pike!" I shouted over the burning in my throat from inhaling the smoke all around me. "You best get off my land or so help me, I'm going to blow off the side of your head!"

Pike was slightly taken aback by my sudden outburst of rage. I suppose it was surprising. I never raised my voice to anyone, let alone threatened to put a bullet between a person's eyes. "All right, Amos," remarked on of the gathered men. "Let's keep on. We ain't in town for the Whitlock barn."

I followed them with the barrel of my pistol as they returned to the beat dirt road and retrieved their horses. As they mounted and faced down road I immediately dropped my arm and spun back around. I used my forearm to push the blazing barn door open. I was instantly overcome with the smoke the poured out in billows and waves.

I caught sight of the flames then. One of the men had dropped his torch just inside and to the right of the door – directly on the pile of hay bales. I suspect only a witch's woulda gone up in quicker flame than that. I side stepped the orange pulsating heat as it licked up the side of the barn wall and threatened to eat through and expose itself to the night sky. I couldn't see more than two feet ahead, the smoke was so thick. I could hear a rushing like water and a lot of crackling as the fire at the wood away.

All the animals in the barn was in a mighty uproar. As soon as I'd thrust the door open three large cats sprung from the loft and made a dash on out. The four remaining horses was hemming and hawing an awful racket. All the goats was braying in a sick sort of cacophony, none of their tones matching as they all cried out for help.

I made along the far bank of stalls and released the latches on each fiery bits of hay began to rain down upon me from the loft. I hissed and flinched as they landed on my exposed skin and singed through my clothes. I finally made it down the opposite end of the barn, wheezing and hacking and coughing fit to blow the whole place over. I managed to kick in the chicken coop, but most of them was too dumb to find their way to the open side of the barn. They all just sort of gravitated around my ankles as I tried to heave open the far door. I couldn't manage and couldn't for the life of me figure out why.

I started feeling wobbly then, like the horizon was moving to where the walls should have been and the sky going in all sorts of crazy directions. I slumped against the budged barn door, trying to at least keep myself upright. For a moment, I thought I was going to die in my barn with chickens peckin' all at my feet. I thought that was a pretty awful way to go, when I felt myself moving again. But my vision transformed and now I was seeing not just the acrid black and brown splintering of the inside of the barn but I saw hazy blue and it was cool and coursed through my lungs with much more ease than the smoke.

I was outside.

I righted myself just before I hit the ground. I looked up to see Alex watching all our chickens course out around my legs like I was Noah on the Ark. "Jas! You all right?" he asked as he ducked under my arm and we made towards the house.

"What happened? I was going to bring the dog in for the night and I heard ol' Amos Pike and his band of good-for-nothings going down the road. Next thing I see is you kickin' your way into a burning barn! You crazy, son?"

We were coming up the small hill to the house and I could see a bright light in the distance. Like a big glowing lamp, the town was alight. It looked like lantern light and maybe a fair few fires like in the barn behind me. I turned back and looked, knowing that there wasn't anything I could as it had gotten so big so quick. I was glad I could at least get the animals out. They'd hopefully be smart enough to join the cattle herds down hill.

When I was finally able to breathe good and proper to respond, we were rounding the front of the house. "I reckon you saw it all," I replied. That wasn't no friendly pop in. I reckon they woulda been down your place next, if I hadn't lost my temper… Do me a favor," I continued, "Go down your place get everything you need to get out of town, bring everyone up here and fetch me back your wagon and donkey. As quick as you can."

Alex nodded and was of quicker than bolt of lightning. As I rounded the last corner and came up on the porch I saw Mama and Lucy with silver tears in their eyes as they watched in terror as our barn burned to the ground in violent pyre. Willy was behind them as Lucy clutched his one hand and he supported Mama on his other side. I paused to watch them only for a moment. "Inside everyone." I called as I sprinted up the stairs and into the house. I heard them clutter after me and I was already in back fishing out the old canvas bag. I dug through the bottom and fished out all the junk til the only thing left was an old pistol and couple extra shots.

"Lucy," I called, "Go into Mama's chest and get all the important papers in there. Willy, get all the bread and dry food from the kitchen you can carry. Mama– Mama?" I looked up and she was nowhere to be seen. I returned to the kitchen in clunked the bag on the table as Willy helped Lucy tuck everything safely inside.

Back on the porch Mama had slumped down against the shingle siding, crying silent tears as she watched the Whitlock barn be fully consumed by flames. "Jasper," she reached out for my hand and I joined her on the ground. "Jasper… this is all your father and I ever worked for. Everything, our money, our hearts, our souls, everything… and it's all destroyed so quick…"

"Mama," I said calmly as I could as I made eye contact with her. "It's just a barn. All the animals are out, everyone here and down the hill is safe. It's just wood. Wood ain't nothing but a dead thing, waiting to get tore down in storm or for an angry ox to kick over. We can build a new barn, Mama. I promise. I'll do it with my own two hands."

She looked up at me and her eyes began to clear a little. "But right now, this is a sittin' beacon to all the trouble in town. You know those Confederate war hawks ain't going to take to kindly to the Whitlock's or their negro employees down the hill if they come on back. So, right now, it's best to get of here." I wrapped my arm around Mama's waist and helped her up.

Just about then, Willy and Lucy joined us. Lucy clutched the canvas bag to her front as the tear trails reflected bright on her face and Willy pulled the door close behind him offered me the last hunting rifles left in the house. I could hear Alex coming back up the path from his house with cart now. I crouched down to Lucy's level. "Not to worry, Luce. Everything's gonna be all right."

"Jasper Whitlock," she reached out to slap my arm. "You scared me half to death runnin' in that barn! All for what? A gaggle of stupid chickens! Don't you dare ever do that to me again!"

"Hey, I'm all right," I reassured her. "Nothing your big brother can't handle. I'll be just fine. Now, I want you and Mama to do me a favor," I glanced up at Mama as she listened in now. "You're gonna go with Alex, Maggie, Loretta, Noah and George and you're gonna head to Aunt Mae's, y'hear? 'Cept I don't want you on the roads. Don't get lost – you can stay in sight of the roads, but keep to the trees and don't let no one see you that don't have to, understand?"

More tears streamed down her cheeks and I reached up to brush them away. Nothing was ever more terrible than watching my Lucy cry. "You're not coming with us?"

"Not right now," I replied. "I got a thing or two to take care of, but I'll be by Aunt Mae's the day after y'all get there. All right."

"But Jasper–"

"Please, Lucy," I begged her with a sincere face.

She sealed her lips together and swallowed, finally nodding. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around my neck in the tightest embrace she could manage. I wound my arms around her small back, wishing keeping her the others safe was as easy as hugging her was.

Alex rounded the corner then – with Loretta, Maggie, Noah, George, the cart and their donkey Abigail. I quickly relayed my directions once again to our newcomers and they all nodded solemnly. Unfortunately, they woulda had greater troubles getting out of town, then Lucy and Mama…

"You got everybody's workin' papers?" I asked Alex quietly as we made for the tree cover that bordered our property and ran along the road into town.

"Of course," Alex scoffed. "You think I'm crazy? They find us, we gon' have a hard enough time convincin' them not to shoot us long enough to show 'em anything that look like proof we're free."

"Well," I sighed. "I didn't want to be quite so dismal…"

"It ain't dismal, Jas. Plain fact of life, unfortunately. We'll be fine. We's all born for runnin' – you're Mama and Lucy too. Ranch life'll do that a person."

"Alex," I reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know when I'll get to Mae's – she's a whole county westward – but please, just—"

"I'll take good care of 'em, Jasper," he glanced at Mama and Lucy as they stood with Maggie and Loretta along the treeline. "They's my family too."

"Thank you," I nodded. "Stay safe."

I shook Alex's hand, promised to see him in a few days. I stood with Willy as the wind blew the tall grass about our legs, as the last of our family – Mama, Lucy, Alex, Loretta, Maggie, Noah and George – made their way slow and quiet into the woods and slowly disappeared from sight –between the trees and into the dark – like ghosts in the smoke of the barn fire.


End file.
